


The lone wolf howls

by moon_flower



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_flower/pseuds/moon_flower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sansa and Theon escape Winterfell and the Boltons, they head North to the Wall to seek out Jon.<br/>(Partly Show Universe / ASOIAF Universe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Escape

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea to write this after the Game of Thrones season 5 premise (Sansa as Jeyne Poole).

      Sansa collapsed against the giant oak, the pain in her right ankle was excruciating. Tears were blurring her vision as she watched the frail man limp next to her. His breathing was ragged.  
They had finally reached the woodlot that lay north of Winterfell. They had run tirelessly through burnt and abandoned fields, aiming for the shelter of the trees to hide them.  
“We have to keep going, he’ll never stop. Come on.” Theon urged her forward, pulling her arm across his shoulders. Sansa favored her ankle as they continued to trudge through the snowdrifts. Sansa looked around and started to notice the bodies that littered the ground like dark crimson leaves. She winced with pain as they hopped over logs and stepped over dead men, she saw glimpses of flaming hearts on broken shields and knew that the Boltons had won. The cries in the distance stoked their panic. Theon was frantic, urging her to move faster. She knew he broke their fall from the top of the castle wall, and yet his perseverance was unyielding. They both knew the pain they were experiencing was nothing like what Ramsay could inflict.  
It was almost dusk and the forest was growing increasingly harder to navigate through. Sansa had tripped several times, bringing Theon down with her. She cried out and Theon pulled her back up.  
She heard him whispering under his breath.  
“What is it?” She said, their arms cradling each other they continued to move.  
“The dogs.” They looked at each other as the barking echoed into the dark. Theon’s pale eyes gaped at hers. _H_ _e'll never stop hunting us._  
They were running through fresh snow that reached their knees in some areas. She felt as if she were running in a dream, as fast as her legs would carry her she was covering no ground. At some point she realized she couldn’t feel her legs anymore.  
The yelping cries of the hounds were growing louder, and everything started to fade in her mind. The coldness was in her lungs, her legs and her face. Only Theon kept her going.   
A whinny up ahead stopped them in their tracks for a brief moment, a silvery figure riding a brown horse started galloping towards in the field along the outskirts of the trees. They tore towards a boulder, Sansa hugged it and looked behind where they came. She gasped, torches were burning towards them, illuminating the forest in an eerie orange fog.  
“Theon!” she screamed, pulling at his sleeve. The knight approached them. Theon stood over Sansa and shielded his face in terror.  
“Sansa Stark, I am Brienne of Tarth.” She lifted the visor of her helm and jumped off her horse. A second horse joined them, the young boy riding it stretched out his arm to Theon and pulled him up. Brienne helped Sansa up onto her horse, and hastily steered them out of the wood and into the barren field, a pale moon lighting their way.

 

       They were riding hard and fast the entire night, while Ramsay’s men continued to track them. Sansa was holding onto Brienne’s waist with her eyes set firmly behind them. She could see small lights for some time trailing in the distance, and when they disappeared she rested her eyes. Brienne told her they were heading east towards the Kingsroad, hoping to lose the hounds' scent near the river. In this cold, Sansa wondered how long they would last. They were riding through the vast emptiness of the North now, the snowstorm had subsided but the thick grey clouds hung low in the sky, threatening their passage.  
She saw Theon’s head was bobbing in his chest, he had finally given into exhaustion and was resting against the young boy he was riding with. Brienne told her his name was Podrick and he was her squire. Sansa’s mind started to drift.  _Podrick, why do I know that name…_

       Sansa was startled awake when the horses stopped. Brienne shushed her horse and was listening for a few moments. Only the sounds of the river could be heard. Sansa craned her head to see Theon on the other horse, who was shivering under his cloak, his face hidden from view.  
“Have we lost them?” Podrick whispered. Brienne shook her head.  
“I can’t hear over the water … it’s possible they retreated. They won’t stray far, but they are battle weary.” They brought their horses to drink from the river, as Podrick broke bread with Sansa and Theon. They stayed on their horses, not daring to move their limbs. Sansa looked up at Brienne and quickly looked away when she saw her gazing at her.  
“I can’t thank you enough.” She said finally. “You saved our lives.”  
“I swore an oath to your mother, it was my duty to see you safe. And that’s what I intend to do.” Brienne strode over to her, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword, and climbed back on the horse.  
“Where are we heading?”  
“North. To the Wall.” Podrick answered, he was back on his horse as well.  
“Jon…” Sansa gasped. "He’s Lord Commander now, he’ll keep us safe."  
“This is our best option, while the snows have stopped. We best make haste before it starts again.” Brienne said. Sansa smiled to herself, for the first time in a long time. She felt her prayers were finally answered. _I don’t remember the last time I saw him. So many years ago … will he recognize me?_ She bit into the hard black bread and tried to picture his face. Their horses started trotting upstream, their shadows moving silently along the row of elm.  
“When I last saw you at the tavern, I knew you were in trouble, Lady Sansa.” Sansa could see her breath as she spoke in front of her. “I knew I couldn’t trust Littlefinger to keep you safe. When I heard you were married to that Bolton bastard…” Sansa’s stomach began to turn at his name, her eyes were brimming as she looked out onto the rushing water. She had wondered the same thing those past months she was imprisoned in Winterfell. She cried herself to sleep every night after Ramsay’s visits, and prayed Petyr would return to her. _My Lord Protector…_  She would tell herself.  _He told me he cared about me…he kissed me and then left me alone with him._  
_You will be strong without me, sweetling._ He held her face in his hands, his grey-green eyes poring into hers.  _Avenge them._ The crypt was warm, and so was his mouth.   
Sansa exhaled, a sound escaped her mouth.  
“Lady Sansa, are you all right?” She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.  
“Yes, fine…” she inhaled the cold air into her lungs, easing the tightness in her throat.  
“Littlefinger only cares for himself, don't blame your-“  
“We had a plan.” Brienne turned her head.  
“What kind of plan was that, bringing you to the Boltons? Has he seen their sigil?” Brienne scoffed.  
“Before he left, he promised no harm would come to me, that the Manderlys would be watching over me at Winterfell,” Sansa was defensive, “I was only to marry Ramsay if Stannis was defeated…”  
“And?” Sansa glanced down at the grey stain on her finger. She had thrown the wedding ban away once she made her decision to escape.  
“Petyr wasn’t planning on Stannis losing… He was supposed to arrive with the knights of the Vale… Ramsay couldn't wait until then...” Sansa didn't recognize her own voice, it was the first time she spoke of these things to someone. Of course Theon knew what was happening to her during those nights, but he did nothing. Sansa would call him craven and he would not dare to look at her in the eyes. She had never felt so alone in her entire life.

Snow started to fall on Sansa’s cheeks, she pressed her forehead against the back of Brienne’s armor, sheltering her face. She wondered if the Vale knights were delayed by the weather, or was it all according to Petyr's plan, pick up the pieces and side with the winner afterwards, whoever it was.  _I was just the prize, something for Ramsay to play with, keep the Boltons happy and the Manderlys at their throats._   _No one tried to stop him…_

“I'm sorry, Sansa, but that was only a story he told you.” Brienne sighed. The wind was starting to pick up, Podrick steered his horse directly behind them. “He took advantage of your gentle heart. Littlefinger may have saved you from the Lannisters, but the Boltons … The stories I heard while we were staying in that village…”   
“I know.” Sansa tried not to picture their faces, their bodies hanging in the courtyard. She seldom left her room, but when she did, they were always there, as a warning to anyone who betrayed them.  _Did Petyr know…_  The question had lingered in her mind for so long, and yet she was afraid to know the answer. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished it all away and waited for sleep to take her again.

 

 


	2. The North

        They rode the rest of the day, only stopping to feed the horses and themselves. Brienne was cautious to stay off the kingsroad whenever they heard travellers approaching from either direction. The icy winds blowing off of Long Lake signalled the halfway point of their journey to Castle Black. Sansa was somewhat relieved, as she was finding it hard to keep warm. She worried about Theon, who scarcely said a word to anyone, and was constantly shaking under his cloak and mumbling to himself. Podrick would sometimes misinterpret his mutterings, asking him if he needed something. At night they managed to start a small fire, by drawing the horse together as a wind barrier, under the shelter of a pine forest. Their bodies formed a tight circle, and Brienne and Podrick took turns scraping a flint stone across her dagger, sending sparks into the pile of dead pine needles. They stayed seated like that for some time, holding their hands and feet to the flames and eating and listening to their surroundings until they fell asleep on each other. When Sansa woke up, it was night time again, the snows from the day before had started to melt, and now refrozen in the night air. The icy terrain gave off a shimmer against the black forests beyond, it scared Sansa to know what was lurking in there. She lifted her head off a saddlebag she was using as a pillow and looked over to where Brienne was standing watch.

“You should eat and wake the others, we have to keep moving.” Brienne stood tall and looked as strong as the trees surrounding them. Sansa thought she looked just like a knight from behind, though not the kind she had ever seen before or read about. But nothing from her stories had ever come true, and she had since learned that life was crueler than she could have ever imagined. Sometimes she hated how stupid she had been, letting Septas and her mother fill her head with lovely tales and told her she would be married to a prince and be loved by everyone. Petyr told her the truth at King’s Landing, that life was not a song, and he was right. Thinking of him or her family put her stomach in knots, she couldn’t eat so took a swig of water.

“You said you knew my mother?” Sansa asked. Brienne nodded and continued to look out onto the fields.

“She was a strong woman. I had great respect for her, and was deeply saddened by her death,” she looked over to Sansa, “She trusted me to defend her life and the lives of her children. I intend to keep that promise.” Sansa nodded her head in gratitude, but then remembered something said long ago at a tavern. Brienne and Podrick had met her and Petyr there previously on their way to Winterfell. But Sansa turned her away then, not realizing she was in danger.

“Is it true, that Jaime Lannister was the one who told you to find me?” she watched the knight shift uncomfortably at the mention of his name. “That’s a Lannister sword-”

“Your mother is who I served first. I do not serve the Lannisters, otherwise I would’ve brought you south.” She retorted. Sansa was so road weary, had they not passed Long Lake, she wouldn't have known where they were taking them. Brienne stared back out into the night, resting her hand on the tree's trunk. “I believe she’s watching us now, through the trees.” Sansa looked up at the sparse canopy, thousands of branches soaring into the dark starlit sky.

“You believe in the old golds?”

“We’re in the North now, the old gods are all we have.” Sansa breathed deeply, and wanted to believe she was right.

“It’s strange, the weather. For the past three months it’s been snowing without end, and since the battle at Winterfell, it’s been nothing but clear.” Brienne looked up at the stars, “It seems like someone is watching over us.” Sansa looked over to the ground where Theon lay, where a low chattering sound could be heard. She crawled to his side, slowly lifting the hood from his face. His pale skin was cold to touch, his eyes were sunken, black circles hiding them from view.

“Gods, Theon,” she looked up at Brienne, who strode over immediately, “His lips have gone blue.” They began shaking him, Sansa started rubbing her hands up and down his arms trying to warm him, which slowly brought him back, his eyes rolled open and stared blankly at her.

“Podrick, ready the horses, we need to move.” At her command, Podrick jumped up from his sleep with a “Yes, milady- Brienne”, and ran to fetch the saddles. Sansa slowly coaxed Theon into a sitting position, bringing a wineskin full of water to his mouth. Upon moving his hips, he cried out and lurched forward, Sansa tried to hold him still.

“He’s hurt something, I know it. We jumped from the wall at Winterfell,” Brienne gave her a startled look, “The snow was piled high, we thought it would help. There was no other way...” She urged Brienne to hold Theon, kneeling behind him and holding her arm across his chest. Sansa carefully removed Theon’s boot, and started lifting the hem of his frayed trousers, when she started to see a purple welt. She inhaled suddenly upon seeing the bone sticking out of his skin, but before Theon could look she pulled the trouser leg back down. She had to fight back tears as she tried to think of what they could do. She looked up at Brienne, who solemly shook her head. Theon started to squirm, which tested the Brienne’s strength for a moment, before she instructed Podrick to help him back on the horse.

“Only a maester can help him now, let’s hope there’s one at Castle Black.” said Brienne. Sansa balanced her hands on the ground before slowly rising on her left leg. She could feel Brienne watching her struggle. “Lady Sansa, are you not hurt?” Brienne asked. Sansa didn’t want to admit it, but her right ankle had only started hurting as soon as they dismounted their horses that night. Her entire right side of her leg was aching, as was her left knee. She knew there was bruising already by the feel of her tender muscles, but gritted her teeth and hoped the cold would numb it.

“I think, I hurt my ankle…” She could see the concern in Brienne’s eyes. The knight immediately bent the knee to remove her boot, despite Sansa’s protests. Brienne determined that there was redness and swelling at her ankle, and to resist putting weight on it. After putting her boot back on, Brienne brought her horse to her, and carefully helped her into the saddle.

“You should have told me sooner. I have no idea how you two survived that jump… or running through those woods, for that matter.” She pulled a thick woollen horse blanket over Theon’s shoulders, and then brought one to Sansa, “He must have broken your fall.” she said wistfully. Sansa took the blanket and pulled it across her shoulders, as Brienne joined her on the horse. Theon had saved her, she had come to realize, more times than she probably knew.  _I cursed his name every night. He betrayed my family and set Winterfell on fire. But he did spare Bran and Rickon._ She looked over at his limp figure, shaking under the blanket. _But he did save me._ Brienne finally kicked her heels into their horses’ side and took off into the snowy terrain, with Podrick following closely behind.

           

            After another long night of riding, the sun rose but barely pierced through the thick clouds. The snows seemed to grow thicker the further they went, slowing their progress considerably. Sansa found herself straining her eyes in the blinding snows, only the tall black sentinel trees fractured the landscape. Brienne’s determination was unyielding, and assured they would be there within another day. Sansa looked over to Theon and wondered if he had that much time. She pleaded with Brienne to stop one more time and make a fire for him, but she refused. “Just one more day, I promise,” the knight yelled back against the wind.

They soldiered on until mid-afternoon, when Brienne’s horse fell. It gave out a horrifying shriek, as it unhorsed its equally terrified riders into the snow, Sansa landing on her buttocks, and Brienne on her side. They were able to help each other back up, but Brienne knew the horse would stay where it fell. She took the grim duty of killing the horse with one swing of her greatsword, Sansa turned her head as a flash of blood sprayed the snow. She joined Podrick and Theon at the edge of a nearby woodland, deciding to take shelter from the cold once more.

They cooked up some of the horse meat, and ate slowly, and in silence. Sansa’s was watching the others’ faces and decided she wasn’t the only one deathly worried about how they would make it to Castle Black. Theon was propped up against a tree near the fire, and was slowly falling asleep when the sound of hooves cracked though their silence. Brienne stood up at once and drew her sword, taking two steps towards the edge of the woods to see the approaching band of riders closing their distance.

“Who is it!?” Podrick yelled, he scrambled to grab his sword lying on the ground. Sansa rose, while balancing herself on the tree, squinting at the blue flags that flew over the fast-approaching company.

“House Arryn.” said Sansa. Brienne and Podrick gaped at her, then back at the riders.

_How did he find me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback! Getting excited to write the next chapter, should be interesting ... :)


	3. The Mockingbird

“Are you sure my lady?” Brienne stood before Sansa, sword in hand, anxiously waiting for an answer. The knight glanced over her shoulder as the first of the four riders finally swung off his horse.

“He won’t hurt me,” said Sansa, never taking her eyes off of Lord Baelish. Brienne regarded her with a nod, and stepped to her left side, holding her sword poised and ready. Sansa kept her head high and tried relax her face, despite the butterflies she had in her stomach. She was also trying to balance most of her weight on her right leg, wincing as she gently placed her left foot on the snow. Sansa watched as Lord Petyr addressed his riders before approaching her. He was dressed all in black, wearing his fur-lined riding cloak, a silvery mockingbird pinned at his neck. As he turned to look at her, she started fidgeting with her hands nervously.

“Lady Sansa,” he strode over slowly, “I’ve been looking for you, sweetling.” Their eyes were locked, Sansa felt as if no one else existed at that moment. Petyr looked older to her, the ashen grey hair at his temple had gone almost white, his head peppered with grey. His face was drawn and pale, but his eyes were still smiling. She watched as he pored over her entire body, causing her to inadvertently straighten her back and steady her leg. She heard Brienne warn him about keeping his distance, but he ignored it, and Sansa lifted her hand out to reassure her. As they stood a foot apart, she noticed both her and Petyr were holding their right hand to their abdomen. “It looks like Lady Brienne found you first,” His grey-green eyes creased at the corners. He waited for her to respond, casting a quick glance over the figures behind her in the trees. “And Theon Greyjoy as well? Well, it is a good thing I found you, before -“

“Don’t say his name. Never to me.” She spat. Feeling the anger swelling in her chest, she clenched her fists. “Do you know what he did to me? To _him_?” She pointed at Theon’s frail figure at the base of the tree. Petyr lowered his gaze, then looked back at her. “He made me a Bolton, is that what you wanted? He treated me like dog, he hurt me every night, is that what-“ Petyr grabbed her fist as it fell to his chest, pulled her closer as tears started to well in her eyes. She tried to pull away from him, but he steadied her to meet his eyes. The pained look on Petyr’s face gave her pause, her rapid breathing started to relax, she could see Brienne in the corner of her eye move closer, then stop.

“Sansa, please.” He rasped, maintaining his grip on her wrists, “Of course, I didn’t know,” She pulled away from him, scowling.

“Don’t feed your lies to me,” she held her hands to her side, “You always know … you’re Littlefinger.” Her heart was beating in her throat, the anger and pain that had burned within her for the past three months was finally coming out, she wanted to scream. Sansa looked past him at his riders, who had since dismounted their horses, standing with their hands on the pommels of their swords. “I’m not going with you, you can’t force me.” He lifted his hands out in front of him.

“I won’t force you to do anything, Sansa. You’ve made every choice that led you here. Even before we set out for Winterfell, you had a choice,” Sansa started shaking her head. _I never wanted any of this, to play your games._

“I trusted you.” She whispered under her breath, which froze in the air between them. Warm tears rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe them away. “You used me, just like he did.” Petyr took one step forward, his breath heaved as he spoke into her ear.

“You know that’s not true, Sansa …” he purred, his hands hovered over her shoulders, “I’m deeply sorry for what happened to you, but you didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you? I wasn’t under any illusions about defeating the Boltons, but I took a risk-we both did. I wasn’t planning on Cersei summoning me to King’s Landing, and I couldn’t risk not seeing her face to face. I needed to keep her at ease, to make certain she knows as little as possible, while making her think she knows everything.” Sansa continued to avert her eyes, looking at Brienne who was glaring at Petyr, “When I found out Roose married you to his bastard before the battle, I was furious. That's why I held out my end of the bargain, the Vale's army." He studied her reaction, but Sansa remained silent. "I won’t lie to you. Ramsay did send me to find you and Theon. But I was never planning on bringing you back.” Her eyes narrowed to his. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You’re letting us go?” she asked.

“Yes, to go to the Wall, I presume. To see your bastard brother?” Sansa quickly glanced over to Brienne, and then back to meet Petyr’s gaze. “I trust you still want your home back, to avenge your family? Tell Jon to send all the men he can spare, and we’ll take back Winterfell.” Petyr lowered his head, she could feel his breath on her neck, “I will do whatever it takes, for you to find it in your heart to trust me again. To forgive me,” She studied him, hearing the sincerity in his voice, but didn’t know if she could trust it.

“The Night’s Watch are sworn to defend the Wall, they would never fight your war,” she shot back. Sansa started to remember the slaughter she witnessed in the tower that fateful day. The hellish screams and clashes of swords rang out against the castle walls, she watched as the Boltons surrounded Stannis’s soldiers, “As long as they have Winterfell, they’ll win. Winter is here, and any army will starve before-“

“The Bolton’s claim to Winterfell grows weaker with every moment that you’re gone,” Petyr’s hand found hers, “You are the key to the North. Your father’s bannermen are secretly rallying to your cause. As long as you live, the Starks will hold Winterfell.” At that moment, Sansa was reminded of her little brothers. Theon confessed to her that he never found Bran and Rickon, that they had run away with a Wildling woman after he sacked Winterfell. She almost told Petyr about them, but held her tongue. Brienne sheathed her longsword, having considered everything Lord Baelish was saying.

“I suppose the Boltons won’t take your head for returning empty handed?” asked the knight. Petyr shot her a sideways glace, and smiled.

“I assure you, they find me more valuable with my head on my shoulders. Especially when they consider me their ally, with an army at my command.” He continued to look at Sansa, who never wavered her stare either. ”Roose intercepts every message that reaches Winterfell, so I’ll send you a raven when I’m ready to receive Jon's men. Since it takes three days to get to Winterfell, I expect you’ll hear from me soon. But you must leave now, you’ll reach Castle Black tonight.”

“If you have another horse to spare, we will.” Brienne added. Petyr nodded his head, turned to his men and whistled. One of the Vale riders walked his large white destrier over to Sansa. Before she could lift her foot into the stirrup, Petyr stopped her.

“I know you’re hurt, my Lady. Let me help you,” he urged, as he held his hand out. Sansa looked at his hand, then bit her lip as she forced her left foot in the stirrup and heaved herself into the saddle. It took a tremendous effort to stifle a cry from the pain she was feeling in her knee. She watched Brienne and Podrick through the trees, helping Theon back on their horse.

“I suppose you trust that I’ll do this small favor for you, delivering the Nights Watch.” said Sansa, peering down from her horse. Petyr squinted up at her and smiled.

“I trust you want the Boltons dead,” he said simply. She regarded him steely-eyed, pulling the hood of her cloak over her copper braid. Brienne jumped up on the saddle, seating herself behind Sansa.

“You’ve made this mistake before, Petyr. I’m a Bolton now, remember?” she saw the glimmer in his eyes fade, “Perhaps I’ll send a raven to my husband, letting him know you let me and Theon go, and that you’re planning to betray him.” Sansa felt a smile play upon her face as she nodded to Brienne, who brought their destrier into a trot towards Podrick and Theon. Of course, she didn’t mean anything she said, but it was satisfying to see a flicker of doubt on his face for once. Sansa never looked back at Petyr, but sensed he was watching her leave.  _Winter is here, Lord Baelish. It’s hard, cold and unforgiving._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some embellishments to Petyr's plan/Sansa's marriage scenario. I just can't reconcile Show!Petyr's incompetence, considering who Sansa is, and what the Boltons are. I am a die hard Petyr/Sansa fan, so it was fun to write Sansa playing with him for a change.  
> Thanks for reading! Off to Castle Black...


	4. Castle Black

            Jon Snow walked into his dim bedchamber that night, shook off his snow covered cloak and quickly lit a fire in the hearth. His body and mind were weary, but he could not stop thinking about what Lady Melisandre had told him since she returned to Castle Black. Her appearance was unexpected and made him fearful; the brothers and wildlings both stood and stared as the red woman rode into the courtyard. He and Davos Seaworth approached her and immediately inquired on Stannis and his men but she gave them no answers. Davos urgently asked about princess Shireen, Jon could see the sorrow in his eyes as she gave him a defeated look. For the firs time, Jon noticed the ruby at her neck was black as pitch. In a quiet detached voice she whispered, _A girl in grey on a dying horse, your sister is riding for Castle Black with others._ The red woman could not say which of his half-sisters were coming, but it made him feel restless. _She’s been wrong before, don’t get your hopes up just yet._ He was tempted to ride out to find his sister, but knew his place as Lord Commander was at the Wall. _It has to be Arya … Sansa is at King’s Landing still._ He could picture both of their faces when they were at Winterfell, as he lay in his bed that night, his head spinning.

Jon had noticed that the castle was finally quiet, a soft snow was falling that night, but he reckoned it would get worse by morning. _Let’s hope we don’t get snowed in._ At that instant Mormont’s crow started flapping it’s wings on its perch, “Snow! Snow!” Jon immediately strode over to his door and shut it, which silenced the crow on the other side.

He ran his burnt hand through his hair, and settled back into his bed. Closing his eyes, he suddenly realized Ghost wasn’t with him, but remembered he was out hunting in the woods. Jon fell asleep knowing his mind wouldn’t find any rest in his dreams, roaming through black woods, and hunting under the full moon.

  

            Jon found himself padding down a snowy path, hot on something’s trail. The scent led him through snow drifts, down a frozen ditch and back out again, branches grazed his face and fur as he tumbled through the soft snow. Distant noises stopped him in his tracks, perking his ears he sniffed the air, which brought his attention back behind from where he came. Through the trees he could see far in the distance, shapes were moving fast against the white tundra. Two giant beasts carrying men, one was silvery in the moonlight. He could smell blood on one of them. Licking his lips he started after them, smelling the air as he went. He followed them as they rode down the main road, it would take him back home. Slowing down, he suddenly caught the scent of someone he knew to be dead. He didn’t remember the last time he felt his sister’s presence, but it made his fur rise in alarm. Lifting his head high in the night air, he howled once.

 

         A hard knock at his door woke him from his deep sleep. He threw his blankets off and called out, “Who is it?” Eddison Tollett answered by opening the door and walking in. The bewilderment on his friend’s face answered Jon’s next question.

“Is it Sansa?” he asked. Edd nodded slowly. Jon quickly threw his boots and cloak on, and quickly made his way out into the cold, with Edd following behind. He raced along the ramparts of the castle that were now covered in a thick layer of snow, with more falling still. Jon squinted towards the drawbridge of the castle that was now open, a company was waiting for him. His heart was beating fast, he couldn’t stop himself from running. Blinking snow away from his eyes, he could see Melisandre was standing next to a tall knight with two horses, a young man, and a girl with fiery red hair. For half a heartbeat he thought it was Ygritte, then a once familiar voice called out,

“Jon?” They stood staring at each other for the first time in years, Jon was at a loss for words. He felt her cold hands reach up to touch his cheek. “Is it really you?” She was smiling up at him, but tears were streaming down her face. Jon wasted no time and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around shoulders and held her close. She sighed into his ear, “I thought I would never see you … I’m missed you so much, Jon.” He could feel her body almost fall limp as she continued to sob.

“I missed you too, Sansa.” He whispered in her ear. Closing his eyes, he thanked the gods for her safe return. Jon pulled away too look at her face again. She looked just like his sister, red hair, blue eyes, soft white skin, but he felt something was missing, he could hear it in her voice. _Where have you been, dear sister._

 

       Their reunion in the courtyard attracted the attention of Ser Davos, who made his way down to Jon’s side. He found his presence to be a comfort as of late. The high tensions amongst the wildlings and the men of the Night’s Watch were lessened with Davos’s reasoned voice at Jon’s support, when it came to discussing their plight at the Wall. Jon often wondered how such an strategic military man such as Stannis, would send away his one voice of reason, for the words of the red woman.                                     

“Ser Davos, this is my sister, Sansa,” said Jon. The older man bowed his head and took her hand and kissed it lightly. Jon noticed Davos was smiling, highlighting his rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes.

“So glad to meet you, Lady Stark,” he said. Sansa, eyes still shimmering with tears smiled and thanked him, and looked back at Jon. He sent Sansa off directly to his chambers with Edd, requesting she be looked after and drawn a hot bath. Ghost accompanied them, and he felt safe knowing his direwolf would be by her side. Jon watched her as she walked slowly towards the castle, and noticed there was a noticeable limp in her step. She looked back at him one more time before taking refuge in the castle. Standing in front of him were Sansa’s companions, faces he didn’t recognize, but would not soon forget. The tall blond haired knight was a woman, who introduced herself as Brienne of Tarth, who swore an oath to protect his sisters for Lady Catelyn.

“You are forever in my debt, Lady Brienne. Thank you for bringing her here. You are all safe under my guard.” Jon assured, as he looked over the other companions. A young squire who introduced himself as Prodrick Payne, was red-faced and shivering, but stood with his held held high against the relentless chill. Jon was about to send them to the kitchens for a meal when he noticed Lady Melisandre was inspecting the last traveller, a small figure who was wrapped up in blankets on one of the horses.

“Lord Snow, this one needs help,” she called to him, her voice unnerved him as he approached slowly. The red woman lifted the hood from young man’s face, his skin was almost blue and he was moaning. Jon didn’t recognize him, until Brienne answered him,

“He’s Theon Greyjoy. He’s badly hurt, and needs a maester …” Jon couldn’t reconcile his name with this frail person before him. The smiling boy he grew up with, who followed Robb into battle and then betrayed his family. The same boy who torched Winterfell, was clinging to life on this horse. Theon’s bulging pale eyes opened slightly, but Jon saw no one he knew staring back.

“What happened to him?” he asked, looking to Brienne.

“He was a captive of the Boltons at Winterfell … as was your sister,” the grim look on her face sent a chill through Jon’s heart, “They barely escaped with their lives, Jon.” He tightened his fist, horrified at what he was hearing.

“Why was Sansa at Winterfell?” he asked breathlessly. _The battle … did they escape amidst the chaos?_ Brienne frowned, clearly still troubled by the events.

“Littlefinger … I tried to stop her from going with him but, I think she thought she could trust him,” she answered. It crushed Jon to know that Sansa was so close to him, and yet he couldn’t help her. Watching Theon moan and wince on the horse, he didn’t want to know what those monsters did to his sister.

“I’m sorry Lady Brienne, but there’s no maester at Castle Black. We cannot help him,” he said stiffly. Jon wanted to turn him away, still seeing his family’s traitor in his presence. “All we can do is ease his pain. I will send a raven to Balon Greyjoy or his sister. They will receive him.” Jon was speaking to Brienne and Davos both, and urged the older man to bring Theon to maester Aemon’s old chambers. Looking up he noticed his black brothers were silently watching from the ramparts. He felt Melisandre approach him from behind, as he watched Davos walking Theon and his horse towards the castle, with Brienne and Podrick following them.

“He will not survive the night, Lord Snow. It would be best to put him out of his misery … no one should have to suffer for so long.” Jon turned to Melisandre, the black ruby at her throat was turning a dark blood red, and he knew it was her fire god who was speaking. Davos confided to him that he suspected the red woman was responsible for Stannis’ defeat at Winterfell, by burning his followers and those possessing king’s blood. He wouldn’t dare mention the princess’ name, but Jon already knew whom he was referring. Shireen was an innocent, but Melisandre only saw her for the blood she carried.

“You’re right, he has suffered enough. Which is why I forbid you to go near him,” he commanded. Melisandre was taken aback, but narrowed her dark eyes to his and smiled as she started to walk away, her red robes whipping in the wind at her feet.

“Remember what I told you, Jon Snow. You have foes on each side of this Wall,” she called out over the wind, Jon looked up at his brothers who were still idly watching over the courtyard, “I told you what I saw in the flames. Keep your direwolf close to you … and your sister closer.” She walked back to the castle. Jon stood alone at the mouth of the opened gate, the snows started to swell and he knew the storm had finally arrived. He turned to his guards at the gate and motioned them to close it. As he started towards the castle, he noticed his brothers had already left. His thoughts immediately went to Sansa and he quickened his pace up the stairs as the wind started to howl.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, any constructive criticism always appreciated. :)


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